


Off the Deep End

by yespolkadot_kitty



Series: Dark!Catfish [2]
Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: F/M, Frankie AU, dark!Catfish, undercover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: A sequel to "Catfish for Dinner"
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Dark!Catfish [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876921
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Off the Deep End

Dinner seemed to take an interminable amount of time. Much longer than usual. Next to me, Abigail relaxed, only a little, but it was enough for me to know that she wouldn’t have to sleep with some bozo tonight who’d manhandle her.

As for me, well, I could take it. I’d had much worse than Catfish with his big brown eyes and his sensual mouth, currently a grim line in his face.

I reached for a juicy bite of vine leaf and offered it to the man, a question on my face. He opened for me, and I placed the morsel in his mouth. His lips closed around my fingers for a moment and I felt the tiniest scrape of his teeth before he let go.

His leg was firm and warm under me. I must have been heavy but he didn’t show any discomfort, just continued eating. He drank the water but not the wine. Again, I wondered.

_Whose side are you on?_

Cerrino hefted his considerable bulk away from the table and headed towards us on feet clad in expensive loafers. This pair were new; he’d had to toss the last pair after a lackey bled out on them last week. They made almost no sound on the floor.

He leered down at me on Catfish’s lap. 

“Your room is ready. Be merry - we have a big day tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir,” Catfish responded, his voice completely free of inflection.

Cerrino gestured at Abigail and me. “Take them both. This one-” he indicated Abigail “is too meek to enjoy alone.”

“Noted.”

Apparently satisfied with Catfish’s response, Cerrino lumbered away back towards his seat, snapping his fingers. The cartel’s staff appeared as if from nowhere. Cerrino believed the help should be seen but not heard, and over my time here I had learned that any of them - mostly human trafficked - not obeying this unwritten rule would be dealt with swiftly.

At least as unpaid prostitutes, the other girls and I were a step above the poor housekeepers. It wasn’t much.

I tried to help out the “staff” as much as I could. If I got hold of little luxuries I would sneak them to Maria. Some of the girls here, particularly those who belonged only to Cerrino, were lavished with designer clothes, the best toiletries, jewellery. They left these things around carelessly, as if they were worth nothing, and I supposed that compared to freedom, that was true.

Cerrino would retire to the games room now, or the pool, with his inner circle. The other cartel members would be free to do as they pleased. They rarely left the compound other than on a planned excursion. 

“C’mon, _honey_ ,” Catfish muttered, squeezing my hip. I noted that. He could have groped me anywhere - breasts, groin, stomach. But he kept his hand on my hip. What did that mean, I wondered. “I’m ready to go. Abigail, too.”

Abigail glanced over, panicked. I reached for her hand; held it. “It’s okay. Come.” 

She trembled but held it under control.

Cerrino saw the three of us stand and snapped his fingers, pointing to one of the staff. “Show Mr Catfish to his rooms.”

The tiny brunette - Katka, I think her name was - bobbed her head silently and beckoned for us to follow. She was shorter than me and Catfish towered over her as we walked. Katka led us under the big arch of the open, airy dining room and across the courtyard. The heat of the day had abated some, but the humidity still bathed the back of my neck, clammy, unpleasant. 

I squeezed Abigail’s hand as Katka stopped by the door to one of the best rooms, courtyard facing. The key waited in the lock, one of those old-fashioned, big, ornate brass ones. Abigail had thought that charming when she’d first arrived and my heart had hurt for her.

The key was simply for show. Yes, it worked, but Cerrino had a master key. One of the girls had tried to sneak it off him once, my predecessor, and she’d had her jaw broken as a reward.

“There are fresh towels and anything you may need, señor,” Katka murmured, head down. I caught her eye and tried to smile reassuringly, but she either didn’t notice or was too scared to respond. She scurried away on silent feet.

Catfish turned the key, withdrew it from the lock, and examined it in his broad palm. He stepped through the door. A big ceiling fan turned lazily. The bed was made; kingsize. Three towels had been folded on the feet end. The blinds were closed, obscuring the view of anyone on ground level who got curious.

“You girls comin’ in?” Catfish drawled.

I tugged Abigail inside and shut the door behind us.

Catfish caught my gaze and tossed me the big key. “Lock it.”

I did so, left the key turned in the shiny, brass lock.

Now the three of us were completely alone. The slow dance of the ceiling fan seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of the large, warm room. Catfish stood by the bed, his eyes narrowed. He was looking for something - bugs, probably. He saw me looking and crooked a finger.

His eyes were large and dark and impossible to read under the brim of that hat. I did as he bid. Abigail stayed plastered to the door.

When I got to within two feet of him, he reached out and pulled me against him, kissing me fiercely, deeply. I opened for him - partly out of habit, and partly of surprise. He tasted of the dinner spices and coffee, and he plunged a hand into my hair and walked me backwards towards the bathroom door. He stopped, leaned me against the doorjamb, breaking the kiss to bury his face in my shoulder. I felt his free arm move; realised he was walking his fingers up and down the wooden architrave.

“You want it up against the door?” I asked. I needed _something._ A kink; a clue, a weakness.

He didn’t answer; kept looking.

When he didn’t find anything, he backed me further into the bathroom, until I had no choice but to bend my legs and sit on the closed toilet seat.

“Undo my belt, honey,” he half drawled, half growled.

I looked up. His eyes weren’t on my face, they were on the ceiling. The kick moulding where it met the wall. He reached up, palmed the wall, the edges of the white bathroom cabinet above the toilet.

“I’m waiting,” he rasped. 

At this point I was almost sure he was not one of the skeezy cartel members. But I’d seen enough to know that sometimes appearances could be very deceiving. I glanced up at him again; the planes and angles of his face were set in concentration. I pulled the leather through his belt loops, my knuckles brushing his fly. He wasn’t even half-hard. _I knew it._ He was a spy.

“Did I say you could stop?” he asked, and his voice had dropped a half octave, and it was like _sin_ , and against my will I felt desire stir deep in my belly. He was really going through with this. Okay.

I popped the button on his jeans, drew the zip down. I heard his breath catch. So he wasn’t as unaffected as I’d thought.

He wore black boxer briefs, and I found the plain-ness of them sexy. The material was soft as the backs of my fingers brushed it, and I felt the line of his cock stir. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. Then, “Just like that, honey.”

I moved one hand to his hip, worrying the denim there. I left his fly open. The outline of his cock was clear under the stretchy black fabric of his boxers. It was big. My mouth watered.

I held still, unsure what he wanted me to do. His head was still tilted up to the ceiling, one hand braced on the cabinet. He ran his fingers along the bottom, then abruptly I felt him tense up. I knew he’d found something. He looked down at me, and those brown eyes still looked so very, very tired. His hand covered mine where my palm rested on his hip, and then he walked his fingers down to my bare arm, started tracing with his index finger. He’d gotten to the S when I realised.

_Listening device,_ he’d written into my skin. I nodded as he held my gaze. 

“Did I say you could stop sucking me off? Use that pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he rasped. I knew it was for the benefit of the bug, but I had to squeeze my legs together anyway.

His hand started to move on my arm again. _Need to look for others._

“Oh baby,” I cooed. “I’d rather you come inside me. Then Abigail can watch. You know she’s too shy to join in.”


End file.
